Nitwits Freeloading

Idiots who say why should I pay
for your work when I can get
the Greats free from the internet

Don’t understand when I say the dead
have no need of cash, yet
would recognize the cowardice

Of the cheapskate and narcissist
screaming against the fact that they
believe themselves equal to anything

In their solipsistic abuse and denial
of what is true of fools and mice:
bestow upon them the identity they dread

Making popcorn and debt, amused
at their own expense of settling
for cheese as tribute in an unsprung trap

Dust drifting blessed in anonymous
hollows, echoing the brokenness
of all condemned to always less

©Dean J. Baker

 Great Reviews for DARK EARTH


‘Poetry that is classic and timeless.’

‘Vital, intense and uncompromising – singular in clarity, artistry, and authenticity.’

‘Work which illuminates as it informs – a reviving sense of discovery and perspective.’

Literary Publications

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5.0 out of 5 starsdespair tinged with a dark humor that I so love. What touches us in his poetry is the …

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What struck me intensely about Dean’s poetry is this sense of earthiness and despair tinged with a dark humor that I so love. What touches us in his poetry is the hard and quick punch of the lines like some blast out of hell; but this is no metaphysical charade – it is our hell, our lives in this god forsaken universe where the thought of salvation isn’t some dream of transcendence, but is rather a movement toward another order of indifference, another and hopeful purgatory across some bleak landscape beyond the lies and deceit of this one.

5.0 out of 5 stars The most unique set of poems I have ever read.

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I have just read, Dean’s, Dark Earth, I must say the poems were all a surprise to me. I am a lover of poems but never have I experience poems in this form, they get under your skin, and occupy your entire being. His mastery of putting the English language to work for him, to bring to life his thoughts and what he wants to project is amazing.

5.0 out of 5 stars A must read for poetry lovers AND all who just love to read

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Having read Dark Earth by Dean J Baker my first reaction is WOW. This was written for me. His poetry speaks to me deep down in my soul. The style of writing then the naming of the poems is so on target. A must read for poetry lovers AND all who just love to read. Looking forward to more from Mr Baker! Everyone needs to read Dark Earth and the rest of his books! I know I will!

5.0 out of 5 stars Dark Earth is a thought-provoking collection of poems written by Dean Baker I found it to be excellent poetry… I recommend adding it to your collection.

5.0 out of 5 stars Poetry at its finest….

I read a lot, of poetry, and, well, everything I can find. I’ve now read three of Dean’s books, and can honestly say I know of NO modern writer, still alive, or dead, who writes with such honesty, such power, and, such erudition. He has an innate, deep understanding of human nature, which comes across clearly, in both the simplest, and most complex of his poems…

Dean’s books will someday be required reading for anyone who studies literature, poetry, or, human artistry…Every one of his books is a bargain, at whatever price you pay…. – do check the reviews



‘Poetry that is classic and timeless.’

‘Vital, intense and uncompromising – singular in clarity, artistry, and authenticity.’

‘Work which illuminates as it informs – a reviving sense of discovery and perspective.’

Dark Earth – “Rabelais and Hieronymus Bosch look out of dark chinks in these poems…”
’‘The most unique set of poems I have ever read…’ –

Silence Louder Than A Train“Highly recommended…’‘
“… one would be hard pressed to do better…’‘
“…savagely introspective..”

©Dean J. Baker

A Tourist Observing Ruins

This house is so broken,
with the images
of what might have been;
the last experiment
a scientist’s shattered facilities,
a chemical residue

There is no cure for what
you think of tomorrow:
the hero in northern absences,
abandoned on an R.C.M.P post; perhaps
dying of tuberculosis in Rome,
longing to say ‘I did return’

While you and I are two guests
in the burned-out town,
survivors open to investigation;
departing into no sudden sunsets,
amid this most ordinary life:
of quarrels, and lovers gone

©Dean Baker

-excerpt from DARK EARTH,   91 pages $13.25 Cdn, $9.99 Usd

cover photo is of Toronto, Ontario check the reviews check the reviews

great review of Dark Earth

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Bathurst Yards – from DARK EARTH

Sprawled in this boxcar apartment,
no one’s serious
the disturbance temporary

The end of the line,
the lock breaks –
the cargo falls out over-ripe

We shall never get there;
blueprints and maps
do not provide an idea of progress

Which does not matter,
stepping from the rails
to meet familiar ground

Watching how the sun I own
goes down through these trees:
our wings, folded like those leaves

©Dean Baker


Now, Go Read Rumi

I delight in watching opinions
and replies float in self-righteousness
the display of fake emotion
the peons of drama reducing everything
to cries of vengeance under glass

not exactly fine dining in the age of crass
the brain dead registering sine sprays
the public figures jived
out of wealth, position, and endless supply
tantrum babies twitching as if alive

as each performs the illiterate schooling
the undisciplined on articulation and design
exactly where they lay reclined
as true signs of a civilization in decay
deteriorating beneath the waterline

believing these are a signal of fresh
breath and a path which inclines upward
not the tremors of decline
waving goodbye as each performs
hieroglyphics undecipherable by sense or taste

favored tics ideas like war and hunger
murder and contempt mere signs
signifying waste begging history take note
prisoners of their own divine
now, go read Rumi

as if you did not already know

© Dean J. Baker (c)All Rights Reserved

$11.99 print, ebook $5.99 – buy print get ebook for 2.99

Sheepish: You Have Feelings

you say you have feelings, enumerate
these by infinite degrees, in whimsical
pleas for attention and full credibility
as poetry, not verse

accredited finally by replicate monkeys
making memes, striving to appear wise
in their stuttering repetition:
nothing new, nothing unique that doesn’t

count against what you believe you achieve
shutting out those who do, in reality
but you have feelings relatable with ease,
small pocket pills of verse the worst

removing focus on the best unaddressed
but that’s okay since the committee of morons
say you’re a poet, you fit in to our factory
of non-original non-unique

providing occupation for those otherwise
busy knitting spirit doilies
for their comfortable couch, pillows of
small talk to rest curious-less about anything

else that does not reframe your lazy, and
busted flame of mild warmth, false triumph
in the humiliation of literature chastened: but you
remain, tick wrapped in a culture of stupidity and shame

© Dean J. Baker

Bird Brains

The sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken!” – Bob Dylan

Everyone has an opinion these days, some have even
Taken it upon themselves to capture these on the page

Whether rhyming or not various lines make their way
Through the air and flames to take a place, to reposit

Themselves in the form of art or some such imitation
Of the forgotten real thing – even the desire for poetry

Is misplaced, so great that surrogates resembling those
Are daily made in the form of solicitous belief, eager

Dispensations of neuroses confidently stated as though
These were the first and finally only things discovered, not

Caricatures designed to distract and placate, without
The slightest apology for the life pecked away as the writer’s

Riches are gathered once more for attribution to their own holy
Parade of vocalized chirps and tweets where even poetry

Has succumbed, gotten a bad name since there are so many
Poets I think there must somewhere be an obvious absence

Of clerks, and grocers willing to work for the joy of it all:
The lowest common denominator now a substitute for the truth

©Dean J. Baker